


Obedient

by Piscaria



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/pseuds/Piscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He'd beat swordplay into Merlin's thick skull if he had to, if only so that he'd never again need to feel the sickening dread of knowing that Merlin was fighting beside him, fighting for him, as though he were one of Arthur's knights, and not a skinny servant without a lick of common sense."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obedient

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **\+ [Merlin/Arthur Magical Reveal Meme](http://thisissirius.livejournal.com/482675.html) +**.

Rain dripped from his hair into his eyes, but Arthur didn't have time to wipe it away, didn't even have time to blink as the bandit advanced on him, sword in hand. Two of the bandit's companions were dead already, their blood mingling with the rain water that was turning the path to mud beneath Arthur's feet. The third was sparring with Merlin behind him, and Arthur could only hope that Merlin was as bad at getting himself killed as he was at everything else. That left the fourth for Arthur, and they circled each other warily. Arthur feinted, lunging forward, but the bandit hung back, not falling for the bait. He was more cautious than his companions, then. He wouldn't be as quick to fall. Behind him, Arthur heard a muffled "oof," and the sound of a body hitting the ground. He only glanced back for a second – just long enough to see Merlin climbing shakily to his feet, trousers stained with mud -- but a second was all the bandit needed. He lunged forward, and only Arthur's reflexes, honed from years of training, let him get the shield up in time.

Water droplets sprayed from the shield as the sword slammed into it. Arthur brought his own blade up to thrust beneath it, vowing that he'd have Merlin in the training field every day from dawn until dusk if they both managed to survive this. He'd beat swordplay into Merlin's thick skull if he had to, if only so that he'd never again need to feel the sickening dread of knowing that Merlin was fighting beside him, fighting for him, as though he were one of Arthur's knights, and not a skinny servant without a lick of common sense.

The bandit blocked Arthur's sword with the dagger in his left hand, and Arthur brought his shield down, hard, into the bandit's stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. As Arthur lunged in to finish the job, he remembered how quickly Merlin had fallen the last time they'd sparred together. If the bandit had even a fourth of Arthur's skill -- don't think about it, Arthur told himself, swinging his blade. He wouldn't be any help to Merlin until he'd dispatched his own bandit. His bandit was faster than he'd guessed, though, darting away from the swing. Arthur was readying himself for another swing, when Merlin cried out behind him, pained. Through the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin sinking to the ground, a knife buried in his chest.

"No!" Arthur yelled, lunging forward. The bandit's eyes widened in fear at the fury in his voice and the renewed vigor of his movements. Arthur swung hard, slicing through the bandit's shoulder. Crying out in pain, the bandit fell to his knees, gripping the wound. A quick slash to the throat finished the job, and Arthur was turning, ready to unleash his fury on the man who'd killed Merlin. But instead of the bandit, he saw Merlin, himself, standing there, muddy, covered with blood, and somehow, inexplicably . . .

"You're alive," Arthur said, knowing he must be wearing that same slack-jawed expression that Merlin himself had half the time, but too relieved to care.

"Yeah," Merlin said quietly, a note of guilt in his voice. Over his shoulder, Arthur saw the last bandit pinned to a tree with his own sword.

"How –" Arthur started, but fell silent, because Merlin's shirt was bloody, torn where the blade had pierced it. Ignoring Merlin's protests, he ripped the soiled linen further, revealing the pale, undamaged skin beneath it. Merlin's heart pounded frantically beneath Arthur's hand, a trapped falcon beating its wings. Merlin's eyes held a strange mixture of fear and defiance.

"I can take care of myself," he said quietly.

Arthur choked back something between a laugh and a sob, as all of the tiny puzzling events of the last year fell together to form one undeniable picture. He wanted to hug Merlin, or maybe throttle him. He settled for gripping Merlin's shoulder with his left hand, his right, still resting above Merlin's heart, and leaning their foreheads together, until his whole world had narrowed down to the tickle of Merlin's dark hair, his wide, blue eyes.

"See that you always do," he said hoarsely. Merlin only nodded, for once blissfully obedient.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated.


End file.
